The Potioneers
by omnenomnom
Summary: She has the knowledge he needs. He can fly the broom that she needs. One oath later and Hermione has Draco under her tutelage. But she would be simple to think he would come quietly. Is a thirst for knowledge enough to keep them together or will they just kill each other in the process. World building, romance, lots of snark, and heavy plot. Estranged trio.
1. A Great Need

Hermione was enjoying the lovely fall morning next to her potions table. Not that she could ever really feel the seasons in her lab. Everything was perfected isolated, after all a stray oak leaf could cause an explosion in the wrong cauldron.

She had spent the better part of a week perfecting the base of her cure-all potion. She really was sick of the misnomer as it should have really been called cure-most. However, after hours upon hours of diluting and titrating she had gotten it to cover all muggle aliments; however, she still needed one more ingredient to finish the magic aliments half of the potion. She needed a flyer and she was running out of time. Why was she so useless on a broom?

Regardless, it was time for a break. Her tea pot steamed on the burner a table over. She happily called it over and ordered it to pour into her waiting mug of bagged spices. A nice black tea, for this (assumedly brisk) autumn day.

However, as the way tends to be with her work, before she could so much as sip her drink a rather annoying bell rang by her floo. She considered ignoring it for a moment, but the second round was enough to pull her away from her drink.

With a sigh, she glanced at the base of the bell that had fallen silent. The plaque below stated INDIA prompting her to grab a loose hanging scarf from her coat rack. With a mildly irate yank she wrapped the scarf around her, feeling the charms take hold as she slipped into another skin before stepping into the floo before her tea had even stopped steaming.

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Draco was sick of this rotting place. It was always hot. The food all burned. There was dirt everywhere and not nearly enough alcohol to tolerate. But, oh yes, he did try. Which is precisely how he found himself sweating, unhappy, and grilling the portly man named Timbala in front of him for answers

"This is your bottle yes?" He tapped, possibly slammed, the potions container on the counter. The embossed three-eyed cat head matched the ragged wooden sign swinging outside the door.

"Yes, sir it is." The man was a wall. He did not fall to any bribes, threats, or general grandstanding. It threw Draco out of his element.

"Then you made this skele-grow, yes?" He was speaking so slowly one would assume his many-tongues potion was malfunctioning. But no, it was just the seething rage of being stuck in a hot shop with no answers.

"No, I did not make that potion." Draco was ready to swing at the man. He was burly and the way him arms were crossed promised that Draco shouldn't act on that impulse. But oh, he wanted to.

"Then. Who. Did." Don't hit him. Don't hit him.

"Not, I." Replied the man behind the counter. Again. For the fourth time.

"If you didn't then who did!" Deep breaths were all that was keeping him from exploding.

"The owner of the shop." Draco started at this. A new answer possibly? A way out of this looping conversation.

"Fantastic! Who is that?"

"Not I!" Draco was contemplating hitting him anyway when an elder woman breezed in. Her long black hair was braided back and fell down her right shoulder. It was streaked with grey and her wrinkled face wreaked of wisdom.

"She is." Draco sent one more look of pure hatred at the shopkeep before turning his full attention to the new comer. A deep green Sari was embossed with vibrant gold, a small detail but indicated a taste for the lavish. Considering the state of the shop that is something he could work with.

"Hello, I am Ahmi. I hear you had some questions?" Draco was always better with women. He blamed years of his mother's horrid social events. They just ate his charm right up.

"I do. I appreciate your kindness in assisting me." Draco ignored the scoff from the shopkeep and focused his attention on the new target. "Is there a way I could speak with such a lovely creature like yourself in private?"

"There is a parlor in back. Please join me for tea." She spun around and passed through a curtain clearly inviting him to follow. He smirked one more time at the shopkeep who, for the first time since Draco entered the dark shop, had a suspicious smile on his face. Draco desperately hoped he wasn't in charge of the tea.

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At first Herminone had frozen. It had been a long time since she felt the unadulterated fear of the war. It was only her cold and calculating logic that brought her back to reality. She listened to Timbala give him the work around for what must have been at least a third time by the sound of the youngest Malfoy's tone. He might have called her in on her day off but sometimes she did love that man.

She breezed into the room in her sari. The shift in attitude was immediately perceptible. She ignored the false charms and smiles and called him back to the parlor to deal with in private. After all, what could he want with a poor apothecary.

She lead him through the dark wooden building past rows of potions, ingredients, teas and other stock both magical and muggle. When she was sure he was thoroughly lost from the corridors charm she turned into the parlor.

It was the whole reason she selected this building after all. She renovated the rest of it to fit her needs but she left this parlor exactly the same. Spices and ingredients hung from wooden support beams and the fire in the floo provided just enough light to make out the sturdy wooden table, two chairs and a basic kitchen.

Taking the chair furthest from the door she waited for her old classmate to sit. He was clearly over confident in his abilities to woo her.

"Ms?" He started confidently, but she was willing to play the game.

"You may call me Ahmi." She responded as she gestured her wand at the kettle on the stove. It may be significantly warmer but she still wanted her tea. "Why are you here, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Ah, you know of me?" He smiled confidently and Hermione had to resist rolling her eyes.

"Of your family, yes. But the last time I inquired they had no interest in Dehli."

"No, we tend to stay on our side of the pond, or two." He chuckled in a way that she was sure was somewhat endearing but in her experience, Malfoy laughing was never good.

"So then, what are you doing in my shop." The kettle screamed and she called over two tea cups and two of the bags she stored in the pantry. As an afterthought she called over some milk and sugar. No reason to be impolite.

"Well you see that's a rather interesting story." She raised an eye brow as she poured his tea first before her own. Leaning back she gestured to go on.

"Well I happened to injure myself while visiting some of the local temples." Hermione was sure that if Malfoy was wandering the streets of Delhi he was not visiting temples. "And as it would happen, I slipped down some steps and broke my arm."

"You should be more careful. Blood spilt in the temples can be considered a promise to the gods." He confidently waved her off.

"Well, unfortunately we were out quite late and none of the major magical medical centers happen to be open. By pure chance we happen upon a local emergency clinic." Hermione was mildly irate. She had set up those clinics for locals in need of care, not drunken vagrants too pissed to stand straight.

"After a sizeable donation they agreed to give me some skele-gro for my arm. Of course, I was reluctant to take it and would have much rather seen a healer. However, you really can't risk time with these things, can you?"

"I suppose you cannot, Mr. Malfoy." He was including her in all the right places. Just enough input to feel active in the conversation but not enough to actually contribute. As if even a second wasted on anything she were to say would be a tragedy.

"Well, as my friends and I prepared for a night of foul tasting suffering."

"Most likely by the addition of more alcohol." Herminone thought to herself.

"When, low and behold, while the bitter flavor of skele-gro was still toe curling, there was no pain! You could imagine the shock as, across the pond, ours comes with a night of screaming."

"That is the second time he has used "Across the pond"? What a pretentious- Does this even ever work on anyone?" She was quite enjoying her tea after all. She had gotten quite the surprise show with it.

"And so, I went back to this small clinic in disbelief as my arm had completely healed!" He clearly meant it as a compliment but it came off more as an insult to the very clinic she trained.

"That tends to be the point of skele-grow, is it not?" Somewhat stalled he half chuckled and nodded along.

"Indeed. Well after some pestering they gave me the bottle, which led me straight to this shop." Hermione could not help the look of skeptism that crossed her face. 'This shop' is almost impossible to find unless you know what you are looking for or truly in need. He probably bribed or threatened his way here.

"And I just must know how you have done it!" Hermione reacted genuinely to that one. It is a well-known practice within the industry not to ask other potioneers how potions are made without genuine interest. She sipped her tea as he clearly waited in anticipation.

"Well, for emergency breaks there is no need to regrow the whole bone." To her surprise he zeroed in, fully focused on her response. "Thus we are able to dilute the tonic to allow slower recalcification of the bone."

"Yes? Do go on." Somewhat skeptical she continued her explanation as he followed every word closely.

"Since the calcium is not being pulled from the surrounding cells in such large amounts, as is needed to grow bones, it is much less painful. It is a process that takes about the same time as a full regrowth treatment but significantly less pain."

"Pardon, I am not quite aware what a cell is." He asked with curiosity in his eyes. For a moment Hermione thought of him as a human.

"Basic building blocks of all human and animal tissue."

"Pardon?" The hint of impatience in his voice reminded her of who she was talking to. Pulled from the moment she quite remembered that she has no obligation to help the man in front of her.

"It is quite more than I am up to explaining today. I appreciate your interest but I have some things to work on."

"That is perfectly fine, I can come back. I will be here all week!" He replied in a cheery voice but there was an underlying hint of ice.

"I will be out of the country for the next few weeks unfortunately."

"I can floo in. Cost is hardly a concern."

"I am a very busy woman." She responded firmly.

"Then I will pay for your time." He responded flatly. The cordial conversation was over and it was time to get to the meat of things.

"I am aware of who you are Mr. Malfoy. Not just of your name, but who you are, what you did and what you do. What exactly does a corporate giant like yourself want with my little old potions shop." Clearly sensing the shift in mood Malfoy dropped his act too.

"You think I want this rickety old place? Hardly."

"Then why are you here? You want my recipe for skele-gro? I find that hard to believe as it's hardly profitable." As a rule, the standard formula was regulated by the ministry and would never be allowed to be sold above a certain price as it is a 'vital-to-life potion'.

"I want to know how you did it. Consider it a side project of mine." He replied simply sipping his tea. "Excellent tea by the way."

"Why?"

"Because," he paused for a second as if to formulate a thought. "You make it better than me. And that drives me insane."

"Pardon?" It was Hermione's turn to baulk. A Malfoy, admitting an unknown was better than him? Call the Prophet the mogul has lost his mind.

"I want to know. I want to get better. I want to learn."

"Well then you will be left wanting then. Now if you'll excuse me." She pushed her chair back in an act that felt oddly similar to running away when his hand caught hers.

"You seem to hate me quite a bit for someone who doesn't know me."

"I know you. I know what you have done. Your attitude shows what a selfish spoiled child you are. Well, for once, you won't be getting what you want." She ripped her hand away and headed towards the door.

"You may know of me. But, while we are tossing around accusations. you are not who you say you are either Ms. Ahmi."


	2. A Chain to Bind Them

Hermione had her face schooled into a lake of calm but inside her emotions rushed like waves. _How did he know? When did he find out? After all this time I get brought down by Malfoy. Of course, that's just bloody brilliant. How much time did she have?_

Before she truly set her escape in motion, she forced her thoughts to calm. She knew she tended to panic in these situations. Instead she slowly turned while shooting him a doubtful glance.

"Oh? Who am I Mr. Malfoy?" She held herself with confidence, even under fear of the answer.

"You use tea bags." Hermione tried to suss out any meaning from the statement and had come up dry. Did he know or didn't he? She was growing tired of the games and may have snapped a bit more than she intended.

"What on earth does that mean?"

"The locals here drink loose leaf and strain it. You use tea bags."

"I don't like tea in my teeth." She fired back.

"You offered milk and sugar even though you took none."

"Some people like milk and sugar."

"Not here they don't." Hermione cursed inwardly to herself. She spent so much time here and had managed to forget that little detail.

"What is your point?"

"You were raised in England. Possibly another European country but I doubt it considering your taste in quality tea and preferred style of cup."

"That one you are wrong on. These are simply cups I had picked up on sale." She responded huffily. She didn't think they were very English-looking at all.

"So then I am right about everything else?" Somewhat annoyed by his word play, somewhat entertained she decided to close the conversation anyway. Perhaps if she just gave him what he wanted he would leave her be.

"If you want the recipe that badly just take it." She waved her wand in the general direction of the door and a slip of paper came flying in, resting on the table in front of him. She was almost offended by his look of disgust.

"I hardly care for such an insignificant recipe. No, I need the concept behind it. I want your knowledge." Feeling the major warning bells going off in her head she twitched her wand calling for Timbala.

"Unfortunately for you, my brain in firmly planted in my head. Now please leave before I-"

"You will tutor me."

"Oh? Will I?" She crossed her arms in a way that she was sure was out of character but the audacity of the statement had called for it.

"Yes. I will pay you well and arrange living quarters. You will see me on my schedule and will work until I deem the information learned in which case you will be paid a more than generous retirement sum and can buy yourself a beach house in… I don't know… Figi." He waved his hand while pulling out a stack of coins. It was almost laughable if it weren't happening to her. Malfoy was trying to buy her!

"While that is quite a generous offer, I am not your sort of person." His eyebrow raised in question at her. "I am not a pureblood."

He scoffed, startling her. "That hardly matters within the realm of education."

It irked her how such a point of torture to her for years was now hardly worth mentioning. She rubbed her left forearm absently. "I am not even half-blood."

His lip twitched and his counting stalled. "You're a mudblood."

"Muggleborn." She hissed with enough venom to make him jump. After a moment of silence, he continued to count.

"Well you are a talented mud- muggleborn and will be compensated as such. No need to haggle, more will be sent to your account to assist with relocation."

"Well," She paused in her shock looking for words. She pulled the first thought she could from her head."I am sure your father is proud."

Again he stopped counting, clenching the gold tightly. "My father is dead."

Unfortunately, Hermione found the right words for the wrong time. "I cannot give you my condolences."

"Did you know him?" For the first time Hermione was able to relax. Safe from identification, even with her slip. It appeared he did not recognize her after all.

"Somewhat. A horrid man." Her face instinctually scrunched up as it always did when speaking of any death eaters. The memories may blur but she never quite found a way to make them fade.

"I am not like him." It was small and quiet. Not quite a point of shame but more of a sad truth. It left Hermione flabbergasted and vaguely pitying her old enemy.

"I am not available for teaching, for any amount of money." Hermione saw more of a human soul in the Malfoy heir, or head she supposed, today than she had in the 8 years of knowing him. A small fire she had attributed to the discovery of her identity died behind his eyes. He was genuinely interested in learning, even if he didn't know it was her. Perhaps, she could use this to her advantage after all.

"Oh, I see." He stood up abruptly and somewhat shocked. He made quick work of the coins, sliding them back into his bag. "I am sorry for wasting your time today."

"However, I am looking for an apprentice." She had thought it but didn't expect her mouth to actually be able to deliver the words to a sworn enemy. The Ravenclaw part of her screamed that everyone who yearned for knowledge deserved it. While the rest of her logical side was stunned into silence before scoffing that he would never accept it anyway.

"I would hardly call my skill level apprentice." He responded back after what felt like an eternity.

"That is the only position open." Much to her chagrin he seemed to consider it. She was mentally screaming at herself as she weighed trying to backpedal against the offer versus wondering how much fun it would be to have Malfoy under her thumb.

"What are the requirements?" She had never expected that he would even consider this. She had to think of something still that would keep him around just long enough that she could get everything she needed done but not so long he wouldn't outright reject it.

"I will teach you all I know and guide you through improving yourself. In exchange, you will come to my workshop every day to assist in however I see fit for one year. You may not share any information about me, my shops, or my life; however, your education is yours to do with what you please."

"I run a large company you know." He responded bitterly as Timbala finally appeared in the doorway. She let herself relax, knowing she had caught the wizard in front of her.

"You have minions to run a large company. _You_ make custom potions for rich men with infidelity problems."

"Why would I work for you for a year? How do I know that you aren't just a one trick pony?"

"Fine," Hermione snickered to herself. He had no idea how out of his league he was. "If before a year, by some grace of god, you manage to learn all that you can from me, you may consider the bargain upheld."

"I think you underestimate me."

"I think you overestimate yourself." She responded as he stood. She assumed he was planning to shake her hand to seal the deal, as if she would trust his word. "If you find this agreement reasonable you will make an unbreakable vow."

She smiled as he practically fell back his chair a vaguely haunted look on his face. He paused for a moment, staring at the table. "That's very dark magic."

"Not here." She responded, looking longingly at her empty tea cup. She was still not sure that this was the right move, but she didn't have the time she needed for any other option. "Here we don't make promises we don't intend to keep. Now, if you agree Timbala will act as our caster. Otherwise please leave my shop."

"Why do you need an unbreakable vow then?"

"I hardly expect you to hold the same, or any, morales as the wonderous people of this country. My life is private and I would like to keep it that way. If you don't agree that perfectly-"

"Agreed." His whisper was hesitant and barely audible.

"What?"

"Agreed. So you will have your man cast it?" He eyed the large Indian man with a look of distaste, trying to regain his compourse. Timbala remained passive as he eyed Hermione with a look of pity." Does he know how to do it without leaving a scar or losing a finger?"

"I didn't think you'd take it." She uttered mostly to herself. She did her best to suppress the disgust at the whole situation in exchange for the small spark of hope.

"Are you backing out?" He questioned with that god-damned typical smirk of his. Like he had played the game the whole time and left her at the start. Her temper flared but she couldn't scare him off.

"Hardly. Timbala, I need a Vow." Timbala moved into the room with surprising grace for a man his size, coming to a stop just close enough to Malfoy to seem uncomfortable. It seems she wasn't the only one enjoying watching the Slytherin squirm.

"Are you sure, Miss?" She simply nodded. Knowing better than to question her twice he raised his own wand between the two of them. "Hold out your wands."

Hermione did just that. She lifted her beautiful thin vinewood wand, pulsing with life. Compared to the cold skeletal black of his hawthorn it seemed sickly, like the very core had been tainted. Nonetheless, they crossed wands with Timbala's steadfast Oak at the intersection acting as a guide. He nodded to her to start.

"For one year, I will teach you willingly. I will give you skills to better your potions ability and hopefully yourself." A gold light snaked its way from Timbala's wand to her wrist winding around and back down it.

"For one year." He paused looking her directly in the eye. "or until I have learned what I can, I will be your apprentice. I will work every day to learn more. I will learn from your teachings and keep the secrets you hold safe."

A second golden strand mirrored her own, snaking around Malfoy's wrist before connecting again at the center, glowing brightly before fading away.

Just like that, she was Draco Malfoy's Master and all she had wanted was some tea.


	3. A Grand Reveal

He was sure he would find a way out of this. He specifically picked his words carefully. Once he had learned what he needed he was free. It was the flaw of the vow. You needed to be very specific about what you promised and if you weren't it was as good as useless.

He did have to admit he was surprised at her efficacy in secrecy. A quick statement of starting tomorrow morning and the elder woman had apparated away.

The large shopkeep had given him a wooden portkey. A simple wooden plank he quickly slipped into his pocket before he found himself on an unknown street. It seemed the shopkeep was not happy with the arrangement either.

Malfoy practically skipped to an alley where he apparated to the hotel. He appeared outside the door to his room before waltzing in with a smug grin. He had and will always get what he wants.

As soon as he entered he was slammed from his right into a nearby wall. The flash of gold brown calmed the immediate fear of ghost from the past.

"Theo. Let go of me you absolute arse." He pushed off his sandy haired friend, only to be met with a vibrant grin. Theo had grown into his gangly body but kept the boyish looks. After his father had died he had grown his hair out long enough it curled and fell past his ears. He was able to smile again and his eyes seemed lighter than ever. He was still growing into what it was like to not be hated but Draco found himself enjoying the young man's company ever since Blaise dragged him in.

"Aw, he was just worried. Don't be so hard on the poor man." Blasie Zambini was draped lazily across the couch of Malfoy's sitting area, lazily flicking through a magazine that Draco was sure he couldn't read.

" You act as if I was out brawling in the streets." He shook off his friend and hooked Blaise behind the collar before pulling him up. "Besides that, he should be worrying about you. You haven't taken your medicine."

Zambini stumbled along behind him before regaining his footing. "Watch it! This is Cheutru."

"Yes, let's worry about a shirt instead of your arm." Malfoy replied, releasing the man. He pulled out his luggage before shifting through it to find his potions bag.

"I already took it you prick." Blasie was adjusting his collar as Draco pulled out the small vial of light blue liquid. He raised an eye brow at his indignant friend.

"Oh?" With one swift movement Draco flicked Blasie's wrist and watched as his friend crumbled to the ground in pain. "Looks like I will have to up your dose then because it seems rather ineffective."

Blaise growled at him and he couldn't help but smirk. "Arse."

"And you are a liar but here we are. Drink." He held out the potion and man on the ground took it with a grimace. With a swift sigh he tossed his head back to drink before sputtering and coughing. "See was that so hard?"

"It taste terrible." Blasie commented dejectedly from the floor.

"I know. But, it helps." He met Blaise's eyes before the dark skinned man nodded.

"Well, are you gonna tell us where you have been?" Theo enquired from where he entered the room. He had been leaning against the doorway, seemingly without a care in the world.

"Yes, mum." Draco teased as he threw himself back on his bed. "I think I have found a lead on fixing Blaise."

"I am damn perfect and don't need fixed." He shot back from the floor, waiting for the potion to take effect.

"You say as you lay on the floor like the ingrate you are." Theo giggled and Blasie narrowed his eyes but couldn't help letting a small smile escape.

"You really don't need to keep doing this Draco. I am fine."

"No you aren't." Draco stared at the ceiling, wondering if this time would be the last time. "In any event, let's celebrate. I am sick of this country."

"Ah, but the women!" Blaise exclaimed as he pulled himself from the floor.

"And the food!" Theo added.

"And the drinks. Let's go." Draco jumped from the bed and grabbed his friends, carefully avoiding Blaise's right arm. It may be unconventional but Draco was grasping at straws at this point. Besides, he would be able to wiggle his way out of this vow after he got what he needed.

He didn't bother to even glance at the portkey tucked into his jacket, the three eyed cat smiling slyly.

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Draco woke with a hard thunk. His eyes cracked open to reveal a hardwood floor and a vaguely amber lit room. He groaned as a weight pressed lightly on his head. Perhaps the bartender, encouraging him to leave, he really hadn't meant to get so drunk, but a new lead always inspired hope in his friends. And hope, inspired celebrations, and celebration inspired drinking.

A flash of orange- red flitted across his vision and for a moment, his greatest fear he had slept with a Wesley had come true. Until the face of a rather old and rather ugly cat appeared, glancing at Draco from his place on his head.

"Hello, you mangy mongrel. What are you doing here?" The animal let out an ugly yowl before using Draco as a springboard and jumping away.

With a groan he rose to a kneeling position, a small wooden slat falling out of his breast pocket. He picked it up wondering exactly where he was and why that cat looked so familiar.

The sound of a floo off to his right pulled him back into the moment. An old Indian woman stepped out covered in flower petals, muttering about something. Her eyes met his and narrowed as she threw her hands up in the air.

"Of course. Of bloody course. You better not still be drunk you cretin." She stomped away and Draco couldn't help but snicker to himself. He supposed he was starting his 'apprenticeship' today. Maybe if he was lucky he would get his fix by the end of the day and be done by 5:00.

"Good morning Crookshanks. I hope you peed on him." The name sounded familiar as well. Why would a cat be familiar. He hadn't even seen a cat since school. One of his dormmates perhaps?

"Well? Get up. We don't have all day." Ahmi yanked the shawl from her chest and Draco scrambled to a sitting position as her age melted away and the charm was removed. Her back was to him but his 'teacher' was clearly young. Maybe the same age he was. Her wild brown curls were like a shock of brush one would fall into in the wood.

She turned to him with and absolutely evil smirk, one that could rival his own. He started blankly at her face, trying desperately to figure out the very loud warning from his memories. Something that was screaming for a quick hex and escape.

The old cat jumped into her arms and she pet it fondly before speaking. "Well, Malfoy. You sure have found yourself in quite the strange situation."

Cat. Hair. Know-it-all attitude. It suddenly clicked.

"GRANGER!"

She flinched as the cat jumped away hissing. It was clearly startled by his outburst but Draco could bring himself to care.

"Do you MIND?" She hissed back. Resting her hand on her temple. "I have a rather stubborn headache and your shouting is not helping."

Draco paused for a moment taking in the situation.

"No." He looked from the cat to Herminone Bloody Granger. "Nope. No. No."

Quickly he strolled to the floo looking for powder.

"Pardon?"

His eyes scanned the mantle, clearly finding a box stacked with a unusually light gray powder. "Nope."

"You can't just 'nope'. You made a vow, Malfoy."

"Not with you I didn't." He grabbed a handful before stepping into the fire place.

"You'll regret this Malfoy. You can't break a vow."

"Have a nice life Granger." He muttered the name of his home under his breath so she couldn't hear and disappeared in a burst of flame.

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Hermione sighed as she picked another stray tulip petal from her hair. She had been chasing the damn flower pixies across the Netherlands all night. With a sigh she pulled the pixie powder she had gathered from her robes and drifted it towards the catalog on the wall with her wand. Placing its softly in the drawer she snapped it shut. She wasn't worried. He would be back shortly and in the meantime, perhaps she could get some sleep. They still had a few hours after all.

Her alarm woke her at exactly 1 hour later 7:58. She had just put the kettle on before hearing a resounding thunk behind her. She scooped some tea into a bag before bothering to turn around.

"Bloody Christ." Glancing back a somewhat messy looking Draco Malfoy had landed on her rug with her port key next to him. He glanced up and met her eyes as she took a sip of tea.

"Still no!" He proceeded to the floo with the same intent as last time, but now with a considerably visible limp. A flash of light and he was gone. She snickered to herself as the portkey that had brought him to her snapped back into his pocket right before his exit. She just busied herself preparing for the day ahead.

Approximately one hour later, one pale and writhing Slytherin had landed on her area rug in a heap. Oh how she wish she had a camera.

"Welcome back my little apprentice."

"Noooo." He groaned from his spot on the floor. The kettle screeched behind her. She turned to the kettle and began pouring herself a cup.

"Yes." She stated turning back to the boy, a rare spot of white in her otherwise dark workshop. He was again crawling towards the floo. "Don't be stupid. If you leave, the next portkey will bring back a dead body."

She sipped her tea as Malfoy yanked the wooden trinket from his pocket and ripped it away. Sadly, it only made it about a foot away. She relished this. Did it make her a bad person? Maybe. Did she care? Most certainly not.

"Now, now. Don't be like that. I need you for at least one thing before you start to rot." She shook her wand in his general direction. He floated to his feet and on to a nearby couch.

"Fuck Granger. Torture doesn't seem like your MO." He growled from his slumped position. Oh this was soooo much fun for her. She couldn't believe she had regretted this decision for even a second. She grabbed a potion from a nearby table.

"I haven't done a thing. You are the dense idiot who tried to break an unbreakable vow. You are lucky Timbala saw this coming and added a secondary transfer or you would be dying before you ever got back. Drink." She tossed it onto the couch where it bounced harmlessly on to his lap.

"Everything burns."

"You aren't in hell yet. Though you certainly deserve to be. Drink. I don't have all day." Malfoy regarded the potion suspiciously before uncorking and smelling it. "Oh relax, if I wanted to kill you I wouldn't have called you back. It's just a healing potion."

"You're a right idiot you know that Granger?" He swallowed the potion with a scowl. She was mildly disappointed it was one of hers that didn't have the traditional sour flavor.

"Says the man who arrived on my floor in a heap." She sipped her tea and watched him rise. She was fully prepared for anything but hoped he wasn't dumb enough to try anything.

"I could kill you." He offered as he stumbled unsteadily to his feet in what she supposed was a threatening manner. She couldn't help but chuckle.

"You were always a mediocre with a wand. Besides the vow would strike you down first."

"I didn't promise no harm."

"It's implied. How unbreakable would it be if you just got to kill me once you got what you wanted?" She delighted in his scorn. This was the most fun she had had in years.

"Why would do this? I didn't know who you were but you certainly know who I am." He righted himself as the potion fixed the torn muscles and pain. She was almost sad to see it work so quick.

"I need a broom."

"I will buy you a broom factory if you release me." He shook his shoulders loosely as he regained a hold of his body.

"I need the rider, Tosser."

"I don't remember you swearing this much."

"And I don't remember being in a room with you without wanting to hex you into next week and yet here we are. I still want to of course, but I won't."

"Get bloody Potter to do it. I'm leaving. Release me."

"Hmmmm." She sipped her tea thoughtfully. "No."

"Why?" He demanded as he advanced towards her.

"This is more fun." In spite of, herself she was having a great time. It had been so long since she got to have witty banter.

"So you are keeping me chained here for a year. Just so you have someone to taxi you about?" He had come to a stop about 2 feet from her with his arms crossed. He probably thought he looked intimidating but she thought he looked petulant.

"Yes. Now lets go." She set down her tea and checked her watch. She had allowed 15 minutes for his recovery and time was almost up.

"Go where?" Draco asked, clearly not intending to cooperate. She smirked as she grabbed the dusty old broom she used more frequently to clean than to fly.

"Down under, of course." She snatched his arm before he could react just as the portkey triggered. Leaving her workshop echoing with laughter.


	4. A Treasured Ingredient

She landed gracefully on the payment only to be treated to the sight of a collapsed Slytherin yet again. Yes, this was a fantastic choice for her. She glanced around the empty town square.

"Are you mad, woman? You can't port key into a muggle town. Well be seen!" He scrambled up with is wand ready. She assumed he was making to obliviate witnesses. She simply smirked and skipped off without a worry.

"Relax this town has been evacuated. No one is left." His steps followed behind her as they traveled down the road.

"Evacuated? The what are we doing here." A panicked animal sprinted out of the brush and rocketed past them. "What that a… kangaroo? Are we in bloody Australia?"

"No just the regular Australia. All the people are gone as it's monsoon season, the same reason we are here." She handed him the broom with a smile. "Are you ready?"

She watched him sigh and eventually hop on the broom in defeat. "Eh hm. I need to get on too."

"I don't fly with others." He scoffed form the front.

"You also don't associate with muggleborns but now you are being taught by one. Move." She briefly wondered if she was being too harsh, blaming the lack of sleep.

"Fine." He scooted up just enough to leave her an uncomfortably small amount of room. "Where exactly are we going?"

She pointed West towards a collection of large, black thunderhead clouds. "That way."

"Towards that massive storm?" He questioned, as they drifted off the ground. Hermione resisted the urge to flinch or look at the ground.

"Into the massive storm." She was forced to grip Malfoy's waist as the broom lurched to a stop.

"You're a nutter." The broom swiftly turned around and they started speeding away from the storm.

Herminone vaguely remembered a saying about honey and vinegar. Knowing full well he could hear her she leaned in to whisper in his ear. "Well, if you don't want to find the secret to the world's best cure-all potion…"

She smiled as the broom slowed to stop again. The ones who were thirsty for knowledge were always the easiest to bend."Is that opinion? Or fact?"

He turned towards her, revealing a hidden weakness. His eyes were alight with curiosity, the kind that she would see in her own from time to time. She couldn't help what she was sure appeared to be an absolutely manic grin. "It. Cures. Everything."

"Everything?"

"Even things you have never seen or heard of before." There wasn't a moment of conflict as he rounded the broom so quickly Hermione found herself wrapped around the blonde boy, holding on for dear life, much to her dislike.

"You better deliver Granger." He shouted over the roar of the wind.

"You better not kill us Malfoy!" She cackled as they dove into the first of the gray clouds effectively coating them in the pouring rain, thunder rumbling just a short distance away.

00000000000000000000

Malfoy knew better. He once set off a small electrical fire and that was enough to make sure he never messed around with the power source of the world. And yet, a potion that could cure everything. Could it fix Blasie's arm? Could it help his mom? Could it save the world? The possibilities were endless! More importantly, HOW DID HERMIONE BLOODY GRANGER FIGURE IT OUT BEFORE HIM?! He had to know!

He was thinking of all the ways one could elevate the tradition cure-all (which was much more of a cure-some) when he felt the hair rise on the back of his neck. He had a split second to roll out of the way as lightning struck where they had previously just been.

"Fucking HELL!" He screamed into the storm. He heard the echoing cry from Granger. Instantly chastising himself for getting carried away he tried to turn the broom against the wind. "This is mad. We are turning around."

"Why did you move? We had it!" he voice was barely audible through the storm. He was sure she had misspoken. The wind was fighting him and he had only managed to drift them into a loop, still high in the black clouds.

"I moved so we didn't fry!" Another bolt of fear, another roll, another lightning strike. This one with much more clearance than the last.

"Hold still!" She screamed. He had noticed her let go with one arm and felt her shuffle behind him but didn't dare glance back. Before he could call the crazed witch a name his instinct kicked in again. He dodged another, much to her annoyed screams.

"Stop dodging!"

"I am not dying for you Granger." A gust of wind ripped at the broom swinging it mildly out of control before he recovered. At this point he wasn't sure he even had control of where the broom was going anymore. "We're getting out of-"

He felt the strangest sensation as his soaking wet blond hair lifted from his neck and face. The very air crackled with energy and his breath hitched; he knew he couldn't dodge it. There was a flash of white and he braced for the searing red pain.

But it didn't come. His eyes recovered from the blinding bolt. Thunder boomed all around him, shaking him to the bone. Small shocks registered from the tips of his toes. Everything was full of energy and fire but no heart stopping pain. It was only then he realized he was missing a weight behind him.

Pausing for only a moment, a crack of thunder spurred him on. There was only one place she would have gone and that was down. He whipped the broom down through the pounding rain, unable to see more than a few feet in front of him. He almost drew his wand but there wasn't time.

As he broke through the cloud line, the ground began rushing towards him. A small bright light was fluttering below. He pushed the broom forward at a dangerous speed. Gravity tore at him, his stomach lost far behind. Ever-nearing, the ground and the flickering light came closer, whipping in what was very obviously wind torn robes.

He closed in quickly but the dirt of the outback was approaching faster. He reached as far as he could, grasping for a hold on her arm, her leg, her rat's nest of hair- anything. But, they had reached the moment every seeker knows, when it's time to turn back or crash. They were too close and he had run out of time to stop. With one last swipe he grabbed hold of a fistful of fabric, praying it wouldn't rip.

He pulled the broom up and back, knowing his best bet was redirection. Draco angled down and along the speeding ground. When her body impacted the mud he was pulled from the broom as well, sending them both tumbling along the earth. His body cried out in pain as her robe ripped away and his bones echoed with the impact.

He wasn't sure how far they had slid by the time they came to a stop. With great regret, Draco lifted his head in search of his attempted murderess. She was slumped a few feet away, covered in more mud than cloth and partially obscured by the rain and dark. As he stood he wondered mildly if she, and by proxy, his best hope was dead. His body screamed over the storm as his stood, rain plastering his robes to his body. His very skin still sparked with electricity as the thunder roared overhead.

He stumbled towards the body of his old school mate mentally preparing for the next-of-kin- report. After all, it was only right, even if she was a filthy mudblood.

He extended his hand to roll her on her back when she sprung up laughing like a mad man. He was taken aback by her recovery and somewhat relieved to not have to explain a dead witch. However, he very quickly to remember the risk she had put him up to for god-knows-why. Draco vicously cuffed her by the shoulder spinning her toward him.

"Are you daft?! What on earth was that?!" He hollered over the wind. The storm still wreaking a mighty vengeance at their escape.

She stopped laughing and glanced down to the folds of her soaked robes with a quite smile, like a child who had successfully stolen from the cookie jar.

Inside of a medium sized bottle was a flickering light. He looked closer and saw the light spark from one end to the other, a mighty force of nature trapped in a common glass container; lightening in a bottle.

00000000000000000000000000

Hermione was thrilled. This was the best possible thing she could hope for. Not only did she capture it, she got what may have been the largest strike of the storm, fresh from the source. While Malfoy examined their prize, she withdrew her wand and thought of home.

They reappeared in her warm workshop. They both stared at the bottle, it seemed so small for how much power it contained. The sound of heavy breathing and water dripping on the floor were the only thing to interrupt the silence.

Pulling herself away she untangled herself from his arm that was still resting on his shoulder and left the awe shocked man behind her. She heard a mummered drying spell and she limped towards the covered cauldron behind her desk.

The fall had hurt, almost as much as the strike. Her muscles cried in agony, but it was nothing she wasn't used to. Gingerly she set down the bottle containing her prized ingredient as she levitated the heavy cauldron lid off the top of the cast iron pot.

The tell-tale blue bubbling liquid of unfinished cure-all called to her, just waiting for her final addition. She drifted towards it, setting down her wand to grab the bottle.

She almost shouted when she was abruptly pulled back by her robes. Whipping around she found a very haggard looking Slytherin breathing heavily with his robes between his fist.

"Let go." She huffed out, noting her own labored breathing. He held up his wand and she cradled the bottle, protecting it. She flinched and shut her eyes as he muttered a spell, unsure of what to expect.

She felt a wave of warmth pass over her as her robes became damp instead of dripping, her hair dried to a crisp and crunchy state, and her skin was wicked of liquid. She glanced at the caster of the drying spell only to be met with eyes filled with a manic passion that challenged the storm that brought them here.

"Don't drip into it. You'll ruin it." Hermione nodded, knowing her slip up could have resulted in this all being for nothing. She shucked off her outer robes down to her tee-shirt and jeans, before approaching the cauldron. She glanced behind her to check that Malfoy was at a safe distance only to find him towering over her, staring at the bottle in her hand like it was water and he was a dying man.

Breathing in deeply, she turned to the potion. She flipped the bottle upside down, exciting the energy inside it. Her hand grasped the wood cork, holding the lightening in, and yanked. There was a violent crack and Hermione was blown back, slamming into the soaked man behind her.

They hit the floor and Hermione bounced of his chest. They only took a moment for recovery before both scrambling back up to the pot.

The both stared into the deep purple of a successfully completed potion. Hermione was overjoyed but too tired to display it. She felt a rush of relief and sank to the hard wooden floorboards. She had actually finished it. She was actually done. She barely noticed the boy who had joined her as they stared up at the ceiling in a mix of awe, succession and exhaustion.


End file.
